My friend Jeff Tripodi actually called me “Brian ‘Cold Uncaring Universe’ Bishop” in college because I was adamant that there was no purpose to life (save the one we give it). It’s amusing when you look back on yourself and realize that only someone so young could be so unflinchingly uncompromising. Given enough time and diversity of experience, I think it’s inevitable (and desirable) that most absolutist positions get moderated. Where I used to be convinced in the ludicrousness of deities of any flavor, I now routinely say things like, “I think it’s highly unlikely.” After all, empiricism only takes you so far.

I’ve also realized more the difficulty in having good dialog about this issue. Most people’s theological belief system is so wrapped up with their personal identity and their other values and beliefs, that a thoughtful consideration of it amounts to an attack on the self.  So when you meet someone who disagrees with you about such a fundamental topic, it’s felt as sharply as an attack on one’s very core.

I don’t know what the solution to this is, I don’t know how to have the discussion and avoid the feeling of fundamental disconnect/incompatibility, but I have become more aware of exactly how hard these issues are for people to discuss rationally.

Which, of course, is what makes them such good discussions.

But an interesting distinction was made in last night’s conversation that I needed to think hard about. During the discussion about “How Does One Form One’s Beliefs” my friend explained that when examining all the potential beliefs she could subscribe to, the choice of NOT believing in anything greater than physics seemed to “close off too many opportunities”, and didn’t “do anything positive” for her.

In economic terms (and I’m paraphrasing here), the return on investment  for atheism seemed to be nil, whereas the potential return from other belief systems (which could allow for things like spirituality, loving and compassionate almight powers, or just the idea that life doesn’t end when you die) seemed to offer so much more.

It was a really intriguing way of thinking about the issue.

It’s probably done sub-consciously by most people. I bet there is a kind of bargain-hunting for ideology in which most people simply choose to go along with what they were raised with because that’s “cheaper”, from the standpoint of investing mental energy in truly doing “comparison shopping” and incurring the costly anxiety that is associated with breaking from the pack.

So, in a way, “value shopping” for your religous ideology is an extremely bold action that requires quite a large investment: before you can decide which beliefs will provide the most value for you, you have to know what your values are. You have to know what’s valuable to you as an individual. And that’s hard work!

My challenge to this slight on the “pragmatic” choice (to follow the lead of science and believe that it is likely that it is indeed all just a bunch of matter and energy), was to suggest that there WAS a return on investment for believing the universe is cold and uncaring, with no meaning, no purpose, no higher power, and nothing beyond our physical existence.

But then I had to think hard about what it was that was good about atheism.

Why exactly do I LIKE the idea that the universe is just physics?

Well, for one, I believe it takes a certain amount of strength to confront the idea that there is no inherent meaning or anything “greater” than ourselves, and accept that, and then make your way in such a world. It takes balls to say, “I think this is all there is, and I’m just going to have to deal.”

Also, and this might be strange from someone claiming to be an atheist, but I’m big on order, and rules. I get upset when people don’t merge neatly on the highways, or at 4-way stop signs, or when people jump queues. And I think this desire for order is a way of controlling the universe.

If you accept that the universe has no inherent value system, or rules, then it becomes our responsibility to MAKE sense of senselessness, to make order out of chaos. And that’s an infinitely more empowered belief system than, say, a universe created by some higher power which we can do nothing other than try to discern Her meaning, sing Her hymns and give Her praise and wear nice clothes while gathered together at pre-arranged times of the week.

Also, I think atheism is very democratic. If we’re all just a bunch of matter, then, everyone is equally alone, equally lost and trying to find their way in a scary and unpredictable world. Equally grappling with questions of mortality and trying to lead an honorable life. Atheism’s new mantra: “Equality baby!”

In the end, no one knows.

And because we don’t know, we all have to do our best to make the choices that will help us get through life the best way for us each as individuals. We are all entitled to our beliefs (even if they’re wrong), and the most powerful thing we can do with our lives is to decide what those beliefs are for ourselves, not have them decided for us by others or by our lazy subconscious.

So what do YOU believe?

I’ve been fortunate in my life to have lived in a few great cities (London, Paris, Hong Kong, Seoul) and travel to many many more. Travel is one of the experiences I value the most for its amazing ability to transform people: by embedding yourself into other cultures, by experiencing other lifestyles, you gain an understanding not only of the rest of the world, but also about yourself and your own culture.

That said, one of the areas of the world that I had been really interested in visiting is the Middle East. It’s a part of the world with a disproportionate influence on our lives, not just because we sent 130,000 troops into Iraq (twice), not just because it’s the source of most of our energy, and not just because it’s people are from a culture fundamentally different from Western liberal democracy… but because of all of these things together. For the forseeable future, the Middle East will be an important focal area of foreign policy for both Europe and America, and so I wanted to see it.

Luckily for me, I work in an international company with a global customer base and was able to attend an “advisory board” meeting in Dubai with a mixture of customers from all over the Middle East. That meeting, in and of itself, was a great cultural experience.

The Middle East is in many ways even more disparate than Africa, there are super-rich countries (like Saudi Arabia) sharing borders with some of the poorest (like Yemen), there are creative city-states like the Emirates of the UAE, there are petro-states like Kuwait, large populous theocracies (Iran), small diverse democracies (Lebanon), large democracies (Egypt), and traditional monarchies (Jordan).

Unfortunately, we couldn’t hold the meeting in all of them. So we settled on one location: Dubai.

My impression of Dubai from what I’d read was that it was like a cross between Las Vegas (ostentatious) and London (cosmopolitan center of finance): an oasis of glass and steel skyscrapers rising out of the desert, on the shores of the Straits of Hormuz, at the nexus of the busiest (and most strategically important) shipping lane in the world. I came to Dubai expecting ostentatious displays of wealth, a mixture of the super-new and the ancient.

And that’s exactly what Dubai is. With an emphasis on “new”.

You can tell from the airport. It’s appointed in marble, it gleams, and it’s packed with luxury stores selling only the most expensive goods. Air conditioning is ubiquitous and sophisticated. White-clad men and black-robed women in traditional dress are scattered among the uniformed employees. So many uniforms.

The retail clerks have a uniform, airport ground staff another, then there’s the guards (all mustached and sporting berets), the bored-looking border agent who stamped my passport wore a traditional white outfit, as did all of the border agents. The taxi drivers dress in business casual, most of them wear ties. The taxis are all high-end Toyotas, Lexuses, or (for those important enough) Mercedes, Bentleys, and other luxury car brands.

You can tell Dubai is new from the placement of the airport. It’s right in the middle of the city. They planned it that way. It took ten minutes to drive to my hotel (the Sheraton Creek Hotel, considered one of the lesser of the five-stars, it would have been the top hotel in many other cities). On the way I passed an enormous construction site. Then I realized that it was just Dubai.

The entire city is under construction. The entire skyline is skyscrapers in various stages of completion. Wikipedia told me that 22% of their GDP is from construction. It also told me that 40% of the population was Indian and 15% was Pakistani (all guests, not citizens). My taxi drive confirmed this. As did the next five I asked.

The taxi sped along a six lane road through the middle of Dubai. I was in a canyon of skyscrapers the whole way. It was, for lack of a better word, impressive. Most impressive. Dubai is impressive in the way that Hong Kong is impressive, as a feat of engineering. You look at it and say, “Wow. How the hell did they do that.” In Dubai’s case, you also can’t help but wonder, “And WHY did they do that?”

But that’s a topic for another post.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: It should be assumed by the reader as a given that of course the most thoughtful, generous, caring, and all around best person in the world is, of course, the author's girlfriend.]

I think these two make fantastic goodwill ambassadors and here’s why:

This Christmas I had the pleasure of experiencing Christmas in lovely (freezing) Scotland with Lynn’s family. While hanging out with her sister Natalie one night, she looked at us excitedly and asked, “Have I shown you my shoes.” Now, normally, when someone is excited about their shoes, I find it hard to empathize, being male and all, but Natalie had some very special shoes: she reached under the coffee table and produced a pair of pink ballet shoes. I was impressed. I had never known anyone to spontaneously take up ballet after the age of 35.

And then she said, “They were a gift from Pamela.” Aw. Sisterly love. So cute.

But then Natalie explained that she had always been fascinated by ballerinas, had wanted to be one when she was a little girl, and that Pamela had actually gotten her another Christmas gift and this was just an extra gift that Pamela gave her. And suddenly I was so moved that they instantly transformed into the most beautiful pink ballerina shoes I had ever seen.

What a thoughtful gift! Remembering your sister’s childhood dream and giving her a prop to play ballerina in the cold January nights in Scotland in the warmth, comfort, and privacy of your own home. I suddenly pictured seeing Natalie through the window of her house, dancing around the small living room in pink ballerina shoes. And it wasn’t silly or Hallmark-movie-of-the-week cheesy at all. It was really touching.

But Pamela’s generosity didn’t stop there. For Christmas she bought Lynn gift certificates to a voice coach who lives down the road from her in Surrey. Now, to understand this, you must know that Lynn has an incredibly pretty, high, clear voice… and an incredible reluctance to actually deploy said vocal talents. Natural shyness. A lack of encouragement as a child. A typical British fear of embarressment. Whatever the reason, this fantastic talent has been underutilized since childhood. What was fantastic was that Pamela not only thought of such a lovely gift, but that she went through the effort of finding a vocal coach, in the area, convinced the woman to take her payment (which she apparently hadn’t done before), and then convinced her to actually MAKE an official-looking gift certificate and mail it to Pamela so that she could bring it with her and deliver it in person on New Year’s.

I should also mention that Guy (Pamela’s boyfriend and fantastic photographer) also gave me a great portrait of Lynn and I in a very nice wooden frame. Worthy of an honorable mention.

And finally, I have to point out the fantastic thoughtfulness of my brother Mark. Because I was in Scotland for Christmas, I didn’t get to see mark until our ski trip in January. We had to drive four hours from New York to the Adirondacks, and Mark’s first gift was five compilation CDs he had made especially for the occasion. They were great! There was an 80’s mix with not-your-usual-trademark-80s-songs, but songs that really made you go, “OH! I haven’t heard this song in forever and it’s sooooo good!” There was a classic rock compilation, a soul compilation, a CD by a very talented Mo’Fro, and more. We listened to them all weekend they were so good.

But that wasn’t everything. Mark hand-delivered to me two Christmas gifts: A Chuck Norris Facts calendar, with a different Chuck Norris Fact for each day. Freaking GREAT gift. I absolutely loved it. I’m looking at it right now. Today’s is: “Chuck Norris’ hand is the only hand that can beat a royal flush”. I remember looking at Chuck Norris facts years ago when it first came out, before it was actually endorsed by Chuck.

And finally, Mark gave me a box set of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” which we watched and I fell in love with for two reasons: 1) It’s hilarious. It’s like a live action version of Family Guy sometimes, and 2) It’s set in Philly, where I lived, and the whole show makes me nostalgic.

So Mark has really taken care of my entertainment needs for a while still, and I’d like to say thanks.

My friend Matt Prusak also deserves honorable mention for getting me the entire 3 seasons of Deadwood, a show that I absolutely LOVED, and which Matt was thoughtful enough to remember that I loved. Thanks Matt!

Now if only I could muster up something even coming CLOSE to that level of thoughtfulness.

At least I shy away from the coward’s Christmas resort: gift cards.

Well, most of the time I shy away.

Powered by AuthorMapper.com

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the AuthorMapper.

It’s a great feeling, when you’ve worked for something for so long, to finally have it, well, DONE. The idea for the AuthorMapper came to me while I was discussing the possibilities of a new piece of software, an XML content server, with a colleague in Heidelberg in October of 2007. The first recorded email I have about it is from November 2, 2007. All told, I have over 500 emails in my “AuthorMapper” folder, spanning fourteen months.

And this Monday it went live.

I really don’t know the last thing that I worked on that took so long to create. The only things that spring to mind are things like my MBA, my undergrad degree, and my first marriage. Part of the problem was that I needed a fair sum of money to buy the software, that took two months to get authorized, and another two months before the contract was finally signed (welcome to big company culture). Then we needed to find developers who could actually make the damn thing, we were lucky on that score and that took hardly any time at all. But it took seven months from the time that the final development was done, in June of 2008, until the site went live.

“Why Brian, please tell us why, we’re dying to know!” I can hear you all saying.

Well, more bureaucracy. I had to wait until the end of September to get authorization to set up the hosting environment, and then it was decided that we would host it internally. New machines needed to be bought (which took three weeks to get the order out the door), delivered (two weeks), configured (another three weeks), then we hit the holidays, and then we had to do testing.

The good news is, for everything we do from now on (that uses this development environment), we don’t have to do any of that stuff again.

Fourteen months. I really can’t believe it. And now it’s live.

So everyone, humor me and give me something to see as I obsessively check the Google Analytics for the site and go and play around with it. The site is basically a data-mining tool for scientific articles (over 3.4 million of them!) and has lots of pretty bar charts and graphs and even a Google map. If you’re into scientific publishing, it’s really quite cool. If you’re not, then just click some of the buttons and type in random stuff in the search box.

Fourteen months.